Pieces of Black
by mirai3k
Summary: [COMPLETE!] ‘...they shattered like shards of glass into darkness, into pieces of black...It was fascinating and yet it was all very tragic.’ [A look inside the lives of the three Black sisters]
1. Exordium

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and I pray to be as gifted as Ms. Rowling._

**_A/N: _**_She is no doubt a genius but I feel that she's ignored some very 'fascinating' characters of hers. I could seriously write a book about each one of these three but having said that, I think I'll just write this fic (which probably won't be much of a fic but whatever). Finally a non-oneshot! The plan is to have one chapter per sister and then an epilogue. Read and review please! _

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_Exordium:_

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If you ever saw a picture of them together, you'd probably raise your eyebrows and whistle through your teeth.You would find it was fascinating even though it was all very tragic.

There were actually two still photographs that you would need to look at to grasp the story behind the infamous Black sisters.

In the first one, there were three little girls. Two of them sat in fancy chairs and one stood. One was skinny and golden-haired and wore a stiff smile with her pretty scarlet dress that lost its colour because of the monochrome picture. The other was unsmiling and had a slightly round-face. She wore a black dress to match the thick dark tresses that fell around her pale face. The third girl, who seemed to be the oldest at no more than thirteen, stood behind her two sisters and had the most beautiful smile you'd see for a while.

Childhood was a sacred thing, even if you were born a Black. Andromeda had been a tomboy, Narcissa had been an angel, and Bellatrix had been a problem. _Meda, Cissa,_ and _Bella,_ they were called in their childhood to simplify the overly complex names given to them at birth. They were sisters so they were similar in their own little ways and yet, never in your life would you meet three people who grew up and turned out to be so different from one another.

The second photograph was taken many years later. There, they looked like mismatched pieces of a puzzle that simply could not fit. It was a while before Andromeda had left and Bellatrix had recently started school. All three looked solemn and although _this_ picture was in colour, they all wore black and looked as if they had come from a funeral. Maybe it was growing up that had done that to them but if you looked at the photo long and hard you could see the little things that were so easy to miss. Narcissa's eyes were a little downcast, Andromeda's face was slightly turned away, her expression concealed, and Bellatrix was sulking, looking as if she's rather swallow a snake than be where she was.

Regardless of which side of the story you heard, Narcissa was quite a decent girl by most standards. If you asked any other witch or wizard which one of the three had grown up to be the most villainous and notorious, they would tell you it was Bellatrix, and you would probably agree. If you asked the Blacks, however, they would tell you it was Andromeda. But Narcissa was always in the middle, not exactly loved or hated by everyone but generally not mentioned either.

Regardless of whom you talked to and listened to, they'd tell you that it really was one big enigma that could not really be explained and all you really could do was listen to and talk about it. Maybe you could blame it on the inconvenient timing and setting of it all but it probably wouldn't have changed a thing. Their lives were like fairytales that didn't have princes and happy endings—not even Narcissa's—and ultimately they shattered like shards of glass into darkness, into pieces of black.

It was fascinating and yet it was all very tragic.

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	2. Book 1: The Firstborn Renegade

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

**_A/N: _**_Ah it took a while, my apologies. Thanks to all who reviewed! God! This one turned out to be so long, (others will be shorter, hopefully) but thanks in advance for putting up with it and please review! _

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_The Firstborn Renegade _

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They always say that the first child is a blessing; he or she never disobeys, and appreciates life and everything in it, even when there is nothing left to appreciate.

If you told that to Andromeda, as her mother had done countless times in an irritated fashion, she would laugh and tell you, in the same manner, that _they—_whoever the hell they were—were quite mistaken. _Because they had obviously never met a Black._

She never really was a bad kid but then she never really was a princess either—well not by her family's standards. Cissa had always been the princess, looking elegant in Black and in every other colour she ever garbed in, and the girl carried herself with such grace and perfect poise. Cissa was born a golden baby and lived her entire life as a golden beauty: calm, collected, and totally untouched. Andromeda could never understand how the hell she managed it.

Narcissa Black had the potential to have been liked very much if she only hadn't looked so haughty all the time. In comparison, Andromeda was sufficiently liked—even though she was known as the sister who frequently rolled her eyes and had a knack for sarcasm. Bellatrix, however, was _rarely_ liked and was thought to have perhaps too vicious a nature for even a Black.

Even though she was constantly compared to her sisters—her _younger_ sisters!—Andromeda Eleanor Black always managed to shrug everything off, becoming quite an ignorant person by the time she was half-way through school. She would continue living the way she was destined to live and it could best be—or perhaps only be—explained as a double life.

At home and in front of her family, she was a very convincing hater of 'mudbloods' and those who affiliated with them, and put on an excellent show of preaching the family motto of _Toujours__ Pur_ at every appropriate occasion. At school, although she was initially sorted into Slytherin, there never was and never would be a Slytherin like her again.

You would probably have heard how little eleven year-old Sirius Black was the biggest disgrace to The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, being sorted into Gryffindor and all. Well maybe in comparison you'd find Meda less rebellious—perhaps even less _interesting—_but oh unless saw with your own two eyes _the way _she was, the friends she had, and the things she did during most of her Hogwarts years, you'd probably laugh it all off and never dream of believing the firstborn Black of this generation to be capable of carrying out such hypocritical acts. The most remarkable of everything was perhaps the fact that she got away with it very cleanly…for a good while anyway.

Being the only Black in the school for nearly all the years she attended, she was quite fortunate. Narcissa only started a little while before Andromeda was out and so there really was no one to watch her or catch her until it was too late.

During Christmas and Easter breaks, she'd badmouth muggleborns even though she had been dating one since her fourth year and not a _single_ friend of hers was a pureblood. She trusted her baby cousin with a lot of this and seeing as he wasn't nearly old enough to go to Hogwarts and he was very fond of her, Sirius respected her decisions. If ever he awed at her decisions, it would be out of admiration, and even though he had sworn never to tell a soul any of it, he did ask why she did it. And because little Sirius was so adorable and so different and just about the only one in her family who understood her, even at such a young age, she told him the truth with a sad smile and never regretted it. _If only I could make you understand my life, darling. I've had enough of it all!_

And it was the truth. She'd had enough of the talk of blood and purity in her stiff, formal childhood to last her a lifetime and then some. It was like a prison and she needed to be released more than anything. All those years of listening to such senseless family values had moulded her into a carefree little liar when it came to talk of blood, especially in terms of her own personal acquaintances. She knew her limits and she knew when to draw the line and so she wouldn't talk of school anymore than she generally had to. When she _was_ put in an awkward position, and that occasionally happened at Christmas dinners or New Year's parties, she'd do an admirable job at playing her way about it or else she'd turn the conversation around or mock the question with a roll of her eyes but in the end, she'd generally win.

So it was all very easy and it was all just a game and it would all seem to work out somehow…until the best and worst thing of her life happened to her.

Sixteen when she decided to date Ted Tonks. Sixteen. He was another one of her flings. Another muggleborn boy to keep her image up: _pureblood, Slytherin Black going for another mudblood, and look, he's a Gryffindor! Could it possibly get any better than this?_ That was more or less how it happened and nothing more was supposed to happen, but because life doesn't like to bore you, that was definitely not all that happened.

They say you never know when lightning can strike you and you should therefore avoid situations that increase the risk. Unfortunately, love was similar, but only to an extent. It would strike without a warning but there was nothing you could do to flee from its grasp, either before it struck you or after.

They were so good at all the games, both of them. Long evenings would be spent over chessboards; breezy mornings over the Quidditch pitch; and little did they know that they'd end up spending sleepless nights staring at the ceilings of the four-poster beds in their respective dormitories, wondering how in the world they were to master that game of love where the rules were as clear as mud.

So yes, Andromeda had lived a double life, been a brilliant actress, and a skilled pretender but she could only pretend for so long, for there was no more pretending once she fell in love. After that, all hell had broke loose.

Bold, reckless, young, fiery. Sixteen, sixteen! But even then it was too much.

_Kiss him goodbye or kiss everything else goodbye. _Those were the words running through her head on the last day of the summer before seventh year started. Those were her mother's words, in reaction to Andromeda's own foolish ones.

_'He loves me and I love him.'_

_'What's his name?'_

_'Ted.'_

_'Surname?'_

_Silence._

_'Andromeda, do I know his family?'_

_'No. I doubt it.'_

_'What's the name, child? Tell me.'_

_'Tonks.'_

_'What in the world? What kind of name is that?'_

_'Muggle,' she mumbled._

_'What? I thought I heard—'_

_'You heard muggle,' she said firmly, 'He's muggleborn.'_

_'A Mudblood?__ Merlin! _My_ daughter! Holy hell, Meda!'_

And so the row had gone on and on until her father had come home and her mother had said through clenched teeth to be a good girl and forget about it and she wouldn't tell Mr. Black. Andromeda had never really been afraid of her father but she had decided to end the argument because it would be a waste of breath to go on.

By the time she got on to the train to go to Hogwarts for the last time in seven years, she had made up her mind on what she would be kissing goodbye and her decision was frozen solid by the end of that year when Ted had asked her to marry him. Ted, with his calm gaze, rugged shoes, loose tie and careless character, was a boy who never cared much about anything. It was an odd little miracle how of all people, he had gotten through to Andromeda with his hearty laugh and soft eyes when no one else in her life had ever managed it.

Sometimes, she'd ask herself if she was allowing herself to fall for Ted because he represented everything her family stood against but then she would remember that she had not chosen to fall for him and could definitely not choose to fall out of this no matter what she did. That was the point in time when you came to know what you were doing. After ages of not knowing and not understanding, there finally came a point when you knew and nothing could have made you stray from the path that you chose. That point in time had come for Andromeda and it would be _goodbye to everything else_ but it would be a goodbye that was well worth it…even though she would miss Sirius quite a bit.

_Sirius, oh darling Sirius!_ She never did see him again. When he was growing up and in Hogwarts, she was married and out of Britain—for her own sake, not Ted's, because she could not bear to be near all those people who had once called her their daughter, their sister, their niece, their _family_. When she did come back, after travelling the world and weary of it, it was to enrol her daughter, Nymphadora, into Hogwarts, and face the dreadful news that Sirius Black had been imprisoned as a mass murderer, killing a number of people including his own friend.

She believed none of it because she knew that boy with laughing grey eyes who had always loved her and believed her before everyone else and more than anyone else from her whole bleeding family tree. Despite how big and bad he may have grown up to be, he would never have killed anyone who didn't deserve it. As fate would have it—the same fate that gave her a life with Ted, a life she never regretted—Andromeda Black Tonks passed away a year before Sirius Black escaped Azkaban. Before that though, she had made her daughter vow to find him, no matter what, and let him know that his favourite cousin would always be with him, no matter what, because good people had been so hard to find in her cold world.

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**_A/N: _**_Next on the list is Narcissa. Hope you liked this and thanks for reading._


	3. Book 2: The Golden Princess

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

**_A/N: _**_A little shorter and hot off the press! I only read over it once because I was so anxious to post it! Wow, I expected it to be easier than it was, writing Narcissa. __Thanks again to all who reviewed the last chapter: **RT, Nianko, Yours Truly, Aelys, Pantz**, and** CrazyTomboy**! It really means a lot and it keeps me going! _

_Oh and the first quote in here (what Sirius says) is from Chapter 14 of book 5. I left it in italics cuz I didn't want to do that whole embedded citations business from English class :P Anyway, Cissa is odd but Cissa is cool and quite interesting…well to me anyway. Read and review!_

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_The Golden Princess _

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_"…The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," said Sirius with a wry smile _and he was very right. Andromeda was one of the 'good people' and Bellatrix had been a Death eater. Where oh were could you place Narcissa? Unfortunately there wasn't a nice little slot in which one could categorize the middle sister because although she often resembled a pretty, blond, pampered princess, looks wouldn't fail to deceive and Narcissa Black was never really as happy as the picture-perfect smile on her face made her seem.

There were some people in the world who tried to be difficult to read and they either failed or succeeded. Narcissa had always tried to be easy to read and straightforward but was unsuccessful. As a child she had been quiet but honest. She didn't know whether it was everyone's misunderstanding or ignorance that made her more internally reclusive as she had grown older. She was not a social recluse in any way because how could someone so beautiful and intelligent and sharp not be loved?

"There's my darling Cissa," mummy would croon, even as she got older. She was the favourite and they all knew it. Meda and Bella would shoot her looks of loathing and she would pretend not to notice and act as if they didn't affect her one bit when all she wanted to do was slam the great oak door to her room and shove her face in the black velvet-covered pillow and cry until her fair face flushed and her gold curls were in tangles. _Perfection?__ I think not. Why could no one ever see?_

She was blessed with love—in comparison to her sisters anyway—from her parents throughout her childhood and then from her husband after her marriage.

Also, she was blessed with gold: from the hair on her head, her husband's, and her beautiful baby boy's, to the riches she lived amongst in Malfoy Manor. The only thing she was a little unfortunate with was being the in middle of everything and it posed as a problem despite her aristocratic life. She was the middle sister, always unable to choose, always in search of a middle ground, always with a mediocre opinion, and always caught amidst a much larger confusion. Just another pretty face, basically, with not many tales to tell.

Life was a story, her husband had said. This was a while before he had become her husband. It was when they were young and in love and she believed that he would make her life complete. She wasn't totally wrong about that because although Lucius was far from perfect, he _was_—in many ways—perfect for her and she couldn't imagine life with any other.

"_But if life is a story then where do I belong?" she had asked him coolly. She didn't know it then but he had loved her iciness and admired how she could be so loved and worshipped and so regal and still sound so detached. He was quite similar, truth be told, just not as cold. Not with her anyway. He just couldn't manage it._

_"You, my dear, are the protagonist, the villain, the bystander, and the storyteller. You are anything and everything depending on what you want to be."_

_"What if I don't know what I want to be?"_

_"Then you have to find out. It is the key to everything."_

_If you say so, she thought. He was probably right too. It just depressed her to think about it. She didn't know what she wanted to be and she never really found out either. _

So life was a story and everything you did was for the sake of telling your story and making it worthwhile, your legacy, your passing-on, your heirloom. It was all from the life you lived, and maybe you could choose that story and maybe you could not. In his case, he had always had the opportunity to make a choice. In her case, there wasn't much opportunity, nor was there much of choice itself. The biggest choice presented to her was probably whether or not to marry Lucius Malfoy, but even that was not much of a choice as it was bound to happen—love just reinforced it and that was bound to happen too. For her, it was set in stone and written in the schema of her destiny. She had left it to that and much of her life was spent like that.

She didn't have much control over her life even after her wedding. Lucius was charming, Lucius was elegant, and Lucius loved her. Lucius, however, was also a lot more than met the eye. When he joined the Dark side, her world turned to stone and choices didn't matter anymore. It was when her indifference was of utmost importance and her greatest tool. She could've done anything but she wouldn't have done anything. She was a girl who took marriage seriously and would stand by her vows till death did them apart even if her husband had become a ruthless murderer. You could call that her loyalty or you could call that her mistake. Often people would say that her mistake lay _in_ her loyalty but she would argue otherwise.

It really wasn't so intolerable, his service to the Dark Lord…until she saw the blood. His clothes, his skin, his hands. That was where she felt she would have to draw the line. The first time he came home with bloody hands her eyes widened and she shrieked like a madwoman and when he started to approach her to silence her, she passed out.

When she came to, she swore to him that he would have to wash his own hands and his own clothes and she would not have anything to do with that whole business. Even as a pureblood, even as a Black, she disapproved of it strongly.

She didn't sleep in the same room as him for a week and everyday of that week he would bring home red roses for her and everyday she would tear the petals off and scatter them in the garden saying "This is for whoever you killed today, _my love_." Always emphasizing the last two words with sheer bitterness. She knew she couldn't do much to stop him but at least she would play her part in making him feel guilty and she knew she was having effect too because she began to see less and less blood on him. Or maybe it just bothered her less and less as she got more and more used to it.

It was funny because she never—not once—threatened to leave him and although she hated him for all the blood he shed, a part of her loved him relentlessly and always would.

Finally, he swore to her that he had quit all that Dark business and Voldemort's fall followed conveniently soon and so she was thoroughly convinced.

The next decade or so was spent with the Malfoys dedicating their lives to raise their beautiful, albeit spoiled, baby boy. Her son, Draco, was the one person in her life for whom she would sacrifice anything and everything. She loved him more than anyone else and everyone put together, even more than Lucius.

The façade of a normal life was pleasant while it lasted: son enrolled in the greatest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry; mother, the perfect homemaker and social witch; and father, ideally employed at the Ministry.

Too bad it didn't last forever. They really would've stayed happier that way and they knew it too but people make bad choices and people make mistakes and that's what she would tell herself over and over again when life started to fall apart once again. This time, however, it didn't go back to normal and this time, she was out of iciness and indifference—perhaps all used up from her childhood with her sisters and the earlier years of her marriage with Lucius.

In the last few years of her life, she didn't do much else than curse Tom Riddle's soul to hell and back and to hell again. It seemed that whenever Voldemort was around, her life would be dictated according to his will. Her marriage would be on the rocks and the family would become increasingly dysfunctional. Lucius was a loyal supporter once the Dark Lord rose again but at least his ultimate death was from defying Voldemort's orders and not obeying them. It was the only way she could make herself forgive him and be at peace with herself. But that didn't mean she didn't love him all along.

After years of not knowing what she wanted to be, she realized that it didn't matter. It wasn't what you wanted to be that counted but what you _should've_ been that made all the difference. What she should've been all along was _strong_ and so it was what she became. Time hardened people and it finally took its toll on her. Life left her no choice really because although being strong for everyone was a tough job, someone had to do it.

She realized later that it was also what she had wanted to be all her life. _Too bad we realize some things too late._

Narcissa Black Malfoy left this world hoping she had been strong enough and done the best she could've for her son, and she died praying for forgiveness on her husband's behalf. "He wasn't a bad soul" she had said to herself and to anyone and everyone whether they believed it or not. The Dark Lord had a bad soul, maybe even Bellatrix too, but not her husband, not her beloved, _not her Lucius._

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**_A/N: _**_Next and last is our beloved Bella. Hope this one wasn't too bad? Expect more for Bellatrix…I'm really putting my soul into writing her. Thanks again for reading and I'd love it if you review, telling me what I did right or what I did wrong, or just saying hi :)_


	4. Book 3: The Dark Soul

_Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing._

_**A/N:** This is the last instalment and here's the overly long A/N to go with the overly long chapter. Sorry for the super-late update (I was actually gonna delay some more but decided that then I'd never get it up with school starting and all). Sirius' middle name in this chapter is stolen from **abigail-nicole**'s Gryffindor Oracle…I just love the initials _:P

_Anyway, thanks to those who put up with me and this fic and all you guys for reading and reviewing, especially **CrazyTomboy**,** Twitch**, and **Steph** among others._

_I know I said there would be an epilogue but it just wasn't working. I still can't believe I made myself post this and I know it's all slightly whacked and A/U now cuz of a certain death and other things but still…I _had_ to finish this fic. Sigh…I've become pretty attached to the sisters. _

_Read and review!_

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_The Dark Soul _

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Funny how little we can see beneath the surface. _Unbreakable, unbreakable, unbreakable…_and she broke.

_It's always that girl who dresses in black and has attitude that can kill and hates the sound of laughter and lives a life consisting of mockery—mainly her own—and so caught up in that charade that she often forgets who she is. It makes a lot of sense if you think about it but not to her, never to her, none at all, none whatsoever, because she can't see herself outside the little sphere of darkness that she's created._

They never knew what broke her but a few suggested that it may have been her best friend and the fact that he had left. Scratch that—her _ex-_best friend (it was quite remarkable really how those two mere letters could be attached to anything to signify detachment). Anyhow, he had left her to rot in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black_—bullshit! It was the house of darkness with screaming portraits and heads of former house elves decorating the walls! How very bloody noble! _And even though she'd always argue with him against those objections, saying that family was family, inwardly, she was scared to death of her own home.

Her best friend had been her cousin—for all of those who couldn't have guessed. Sirius Orion Black, her traitorous, audacious cousin. Everyone had guessed that he was responsible for leaving the greatest void in her life but only she knew of the haunting memories that served to rekindle it more often than she could bear.

_"You ever think of leaving this place, Bella?"_

_"No. I wouldn't dare."_

_"Ha! And you think you're so big and bad! 'ickle Bella wouldn't dare defy mummy's wishes."_

_"It's not about mummy. It's about family!"_

_"Yeah right.__ It's because you agree with everything they have to say, all their let-the-purity-survive bullshit!"_

_"And what if I do?" she had asked defiantly._

_"God!" he had sighed, frustrated. "Why do I keep forgetting you're a Slytherin?"_

_"Oh you really think you're something because you got into Gryffindor, huh? You've disgraced them all, you know? It's disgusting. They were all so furious and you're so bloody proud of it!"_

_"And what if I bloody am? I don't need to be scolded by a thirteen-year-old Slytherin. Go whine to Snivellus or something. Seeing as he fancies ya, he might even listen," he winked._

_"He _doesnot,_ you son-of-a—" and she had stopped abruptly, looking daggers at him…not because she wasn't rude and foul-mouthed but because…because…just _because

_"Go on, Bella, say it," he'd smirked. "I may be the first and last person you'll meet who'll take no offence and maybe even agree with you."_

_"You're a filthy blood traitor and there's nothing worse than that!" and she had gotten up to leave but he had been quick to grab her wrist and pull her down. _

_She had practically fallen on him, mumbling curses and resisting his long limbs but it had all been drowned out by him laughing all the while._

_Face to face, they had almost been a reflection of one another. Only the constant laughter in his face was never present in hers. _

_"Ooh, that's insulting! C'mon, you can do better than that!"_

_"You should be ashamed of yourself! She's your _mother_."_

_"Then why are_ you_ so offended? Touchy, aren't you?" He'd pushed a loose strand of dark hair behind her ears and she had hid a wince because his airiness was a little more than one could handle sometimes. _

_"Quite a prat, aren't you?" she had shot back._

_"Quite," he had said with a knowing smile. "It's in the blood."_

He was so maddening but he was still Sirius Black and always would be. After he left, she found it easy to hate him with a furious passion but the bigger problem was that she was torn inside because she had lost her best and only friend.

Fortunately for her though, Rodolophus Lestrange had come along not too much later…the boy—no, _the man_—who could make your heart soar by the sound of his voice and then take it way with his wink.

He was downright handsome when she had first laid eyes on him. A year ahead of her and drop-dead gorgeous. Back then, when they had all been young, everything about him had captivated her: the sleek hair, the dark penetrating eyes, the ruthless—unmistakably Slytherin—air, and even that scar that seemed to trickle down from the corner of his mouth when he grinned. He never smiled, only grinned. It was something she had noticed a great deal but it never bothered her because like everything else about him, the grins—especially the one he reserved for her—were also drop-dead gorgeous.

Bellatrix had been the kind to hold a grudge against the world. She was a high-maintenance woman and unreservedly proud of it until Lestrange came along and sliced that pride in half.

_Oh love!_ How it felt like to be loved, especially when you knew nothing but dark corners and icy glares your entire life. Anything vaguely resembling love that she may have received from anyone else had been cold, distant, and extremely formal. The only other close bond she had made had failed her because the other half of that bond had turned out to be an audacious little blood traitor who she had stopped thinking about now. Oftentimes, she had felt like betraying this family herself but did not because of the knowledge that she would then be alone. Of course, like much else, that also changed when Lestrange came along because with a new love came a new promise and with that, came a new name and when she was set to be Mrs. Lestrange, she never thought twice about it.

It was no well-kept secret that Bellatrix Black was delighted to become Bellatrix Lestrange but the fact that she was glad to have dropped her maiden name was not widely known for she had always acted as one of the primary advocates for everything the family name stood for. Sirius Black had once barked a laugh and said _I hate everything you proudly stand for and I proudly stand for everything you hate _but that had been a long time ago because now, it would not do to dwell upon him. It had never done her well to dwell upon Sirius Black._ Rodolophus Lestrange _was now the man under her spotlight and even if Sirius hadn't been the worst thing that had happened to her, Rodolophus had undeniably been the best.

The man may have been an unfeeling jerk, a sneak, a sleaze and just about every other horrible name you could call him but his one positive attribute was that he was forever faithful to his one wife.

_They said that loving someone too much could make you hate them._

Although she loved Rodolophus like no one else, the lost feelings and the falling out with her ex-best friend came up and ate at her at the worst times. Killing Sirius had been an act of passion although she was capable of doing it under the Dark Lord's orders nonetheless. What had _got_ to her was that he had _mocked_ her…and mockery was the one thing she could not stand from him because ever since he had left that family, it was all he ever gave her. Every. Single. Time. It had been sheer mockery, with a defiant sort of pride, always indirectly saying how he was lucky to get out of it and leave it all behind…_even if it had meant leaving her behind. _So she liked to tell herself that Sirius Black had dug his own grave with that bleeding cockiness of his and it wasn't her fault that her tolerance for had run out.

Before and after that though, had come Azkaban, and once again she was reminded that she had been destined for the dark.

When Rodolophus had been alive, she had lived for him. Even the Ministry of Magic had been kind enough to allow them a shared cell but not without severe anti-escaping spells on every inch so even their combined magic could do no harm. There really was no need though as they had neither strength nor much desire to escape after the Dark Lord's ultimate fall.

Throughout their respective trials, they had been a sorry sight, pitifully repentant and afraid to let go of one another. Most of His supporters were being put to death because of the nature of their heinous crimes and the Lestranges were sure to be on the list. Dumbledore, seeing good in all—especially his former students, had defended them, and _that_ she would never understand because she had caused the old man enough grief. The only thing left to comfort her now had been her husband's presence and quite honestly, it was all she had wanted and needed.

Rodolophus hadn't lasted too long because the war had worn him out. When he had died, she was alone and sat miserably counting her own days…thinking of Sirius sometimes. _Maybe I wouldn't be here if you hadn't left me. _But blame was an idle thing and it worse to cast it upon a dead man because now, nothing could be done.

Either way, nothing could've been done and nothing could've been changed and she had thought it unfortunate that suicide spells were ineffective in the prison. She had supposed it was because there wouldn't have been a single living soul if one had the chance to escape the constant feeling of hopelessness.

Even with the dementors gone, everything about the prison walls had continued to reek with misery.

Time passed and her days were numbered because she was soon a victim of the same ailment that had killed Rodolophus and she demurred to treatment. _Fancy that—Bellatrix Black Lestrange, the victim for a change._

But for some reason it felt like a blessing.

The Potter boy, it was said, had wanted to kill her with his own two hands to avenge his Godfather's death. Good old Dumbledore had intervened though and just wouldn't have allowed it.

It was a pity really, because in the last few desolate years of her life, she rather wished he had.

The only thing left to comfort her now was that it would soon be over and it wouldn't be too long before she could embrace the darkness as her own. She wanted to sleep and dream and not wake up. _Ever._ She wanted to stop seeing red and was anxious to see black. She had never prayed a word in her life but she prayed now and prayed hard.

God was merciful and benevolent and ever-loving, they used to say. They used to say names of prophets and the Lord and Jesus and Mary before she killed them. It was ironic: they used to pray to save their lives whereas she now prayed to end hers. And her last prayer was answered in due time.

Bellatrix Black Lestrange died in the cells of Azkaban, believing in God and thinking of how she always knew well that the Dark Lord wouldn't have lasted forever even as she had fought for him. More than anything though, she thought of Rodolophus, the man—she could safely say—she loved more than life itself, and managed a weak smile.

_I'll be seeing you soon, my love. _

And then there was a fleeting glimpse of a thirteen year-old boy laughing. It was how she had always remembered him—even as he had died—and why she had always envied him. She was glad to know that this time, Sirius Black wasn't laughing at her.

She closed her eyes and took her last ragged breath.

_And I guess I'll be seeing you too._

…

…

…

-fin-

…

…

**_A/N:_**_ a lot of heart went into this and I swear HBP really was going to send this to shreds but then I thought, what the hell! I had already written this chapter before the book was out and had liked it a lot then…but ugh yeah. Sorry, I know it doesn't comply with post-HBP stuff but I've really stopped worrying about that while reading fanfiction. Thanks again to all the readers (I know I'm making it sound like an epic lol but it's my first 'finished' fic so yep) _

_I've come to love writing these vita-like things that capture a character's life although I know that this fic was far from perfect and this chapter sounded especially like a detached biography but maybe in the future it's possible for one on James, Sirius, and Remus (I've been working with that for a while). I can generally make it work for trios but I can't see myself doing one for Harry, Ron, and Hermoine…maybe someday…but I find them horribly difficult to write, worse than Andromeda and worse than James will probably be._

_Wow, long rant there. Anyway, hoped you liked **Pieces of Black **and I'd love it if you dropped a review!_


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